


Letters of Ram's Horns

by FinnWritess



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Airplanes, Angst, Angst and Romance, Comfort, Emails, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Late Night Conversations, Letters, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Romance, Slow Burn, Writing, discord calls, kind of, no beta we die like men, wilbur writes emails to schlatt about his feelings but never sends them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:36:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FinnWritess/pseuds/FinnWritess
Summary: Everytime he got on call with Schlatt to film some video, his mind would flutter with things he’d written in his email from the night before, and hurled suggestions of what to write in tonight’s one at him.It was disorienting, made it hard to focus. Maybe some part of Wilbur enjoyed it; he kept coming back to the emails regardless, kept writing them, kept spilling his emotion. Or maybe it was just a form of addiction.Either way, he keeps coming back, again and again, typing unsent email after unsent email.-OR-Wilbur writes emails to Schlatt expressing his feelings; ones he never intends to send.
Relationships: Jschlatt/Wilbur Soot
Comments: 73
Kudos: 543





	1. Wilbur

**Author's Note:**

> yes i made up an email address for schlatt, what're you gonna do about it
> 
> ALSO HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! I've been chipping away at this fic for about a week now, and i can finally chip away at the chapters that don't revolve around wilbur's fucking emails now

Nimble fingers hover over a keyboard, slightly shaky. A loud breath is let out, and hands settle lightly over the keys. 

Wilbur stares at his screen, at the open email, for a long moment. He slowly inputs the email address, and puts the subject line simply as one hundred and sixty five. He then begins to type, slowly and carefully.

_ A hundred and sixty five of these now, huh? Time goes fast. Nearly half a year. _

_ I thought about sending you something last night. Flowers, maybe. I didn’t, though. It was a stupid idea. _

_ I’m meant to be filming a video with you in a day. I don’t know how I’ll keep it together, honestly. It’s getting harder not to let my feelings simply spill out.  _

_ It feels like my chest is full of roses, and one of these days it’s just going to burst out. I really don’t know how I’ve held it back this long. _

_ Did I ever tell you about when I realised I was in love with you? We’d finished recording some video- I don’t remember which now, some challenge video I think?- and we were still on call. You made some stupid joke that I shouldn’t have laughed at. I laughed anyway. _

_ That’s what made me realise. That you made me feel things no one else did. A warmth in my heart and a happiness so overwhelming it felt like nothing else in the world mattered.  _

_ Do you see why it’s so hard to keep my feelings bottled up? Hidden inside of me like they’re going to ruin my life if I let even a hint of them out. _

_ Maybe one day I’ll manage to stop being scared of how it’ll affect me. Maybe I’ll just let them out. _

_ Or maybe I won’t. _

_ I’ll write again tomorrow. Like I always do. _

_ -Wilbur _

He leans back in his chair with a sigh, heavy and laced with emotion. Then Wilbur clicks the button that will send the email into his drafts folder, neatly locking it away. He’s still too much of a pussy to dare to even send a single email.

He started doing this some time back- over six months ago now. Wilbur needed some way to spill out his pent up emotion, and this was the best idea he had. 

Now, it only served as a way to make them worse. Everytime he got on call with Schlatt to film some video, his mind would flutter with things he’d written in his email from the night before, and hurled suggestions of what to write in tonight’s one at him.

It was disorienting, made it hard to focus. Maybe some part of Wilbur enjoyed it; he kept coming back to the emails regardless, kept writing them, kept spilling his emotion. Or maybe it was just a form of addiction.

Either way, he keeps coming back, again and again, typing unsent email after unsent email.

*********

Wilbur lets out a sigh, runs a hand through his hair, then plasters a half-fake smile on his face and clicks the call button. Schlatt picks up after three rings, his stupid face and broad smile filling Wilbur’s screen.

“Hey Wilbur!”

Wilbur’s smile widens into something more genuine. “Hey, dude.”

“So, what stupid challenge have you cooked up today?”

Wilbur can hear the fondness in Schlatt’s tone, and his heart skips a beat. “Oh, you’re gonna love it.”

Schlatt groans. “If it’s like one of those water or lava challenges…”

Wilbur grins, leaning towards his camera a little. “Even better.”

“I already hate this.”

“Every five minutes water and lava rise in the world.”

“... So cobblestone?”

“That’s a lot less dramatic, but yes.”

Schlatt groans. “If the cobblestone doesn’t kill you, I will.”

Wilbur laughs, opens the Minecraft world, and leans back in his chair with a smile. He’s relaxing more and more into the call now, but he can’t ever really let his guard down. Not around Schlatt; not with the way Wilbur feels.

But he can have some fun with his friend, and he’s not going to let his emotions ruin this for him. So he eases more into his chair, smiles wider, settles his hands over his keyboard, and gets ready to play.

*********

**To:** [jschlatt@gmail.com](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** 175

_ Hi again. God, I can’t keep away, can I? _

_ We recorded today. Just us, no live chat or stream to monitor. It was… nice.  _

_ I liked getting to be the only to hear your voice, or your laugh. Even if it was just for a bit.  _

_ Maybe that’s selfish of me. I don’t know. Either way, I’m addicted to you. _

_ You’re addicting. I can’t get enough of you. It might be the death of me. _

_ I don’t mind the idea of that. But maybe it’d be better to tell you before I explode. Chest full of roses, y’know? _

_ Even if I can pull just one rose free, I’ll be happy. _

_ -Wilbur. _

**********

“I like your laugh.”

There’s silence over the call. Wilbur kind of wishes he could stuff that singular rose back into his chest, but it’s too late. All he can do is hold it out, and pray Schlatt takes it, and doesn’t toss it to the ground.

“... Uh, thanks?” Schlatt sounds a little lost for words. “I’ve never really had someone… say something like that before.”

“Sorry,” Wilbur says instinctively, futilely trying to pull back the outstretched hand, the flower his fingers clutch. “I didn’t-”

“No, I…” There’s a pause. “I appreciate it.”

Wilbur flops back in his chair. Schlatt’s taken the flower. He holds the rose now, one less thorny plant in Wilbur’s chest, and the feeling is… intoxicating.

“For the record, I like your laugh, too.” Schlatt sounds embarrassed and awkward, but Wilbur’s heart swells. He grins like the lovestruck fool he is, and is glad his camera isn’t on right now.

“Schlatt being nice??? Not clickbait???”

Schlatt laughs, the slight tension between them eased. “Good luck getting anyone to believe you.”

“Who says I’m gonna try and tell anyone anyway?” Wilbur rests his chin in his palm, leaning forward over his desk. “Maybe I want to keep this as just us.”

Not quite another rose, more of half of one. A torn off-handful of petals. Still, Schlatt seems to take it anyway.

“Just us,” he repeats slowly. “Yeah, I could live with that.”

**********

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** 189

_ My chest feels looser. I gave you a rose and a bit. And you took them. I can’t believe you took them. _

_ You didn’t make fun of me for saying the things I did. It gives me hope for if I ever say the things that, today, I didn’t. _

_ Like how your eyes are probably the prettiest I’ve ever seen. Or how your smile could light up an entire room, or just how badly I want to kiss you sometimes. _

_ God, I want. So bad it hurts. Too many things to name. _

_ Domesticity. Romance. All that bullshit, if it’s with you.  _

_ That is, if I can bring myself to speak again. To offer out another rose. Maybe a bouquet. _

_ But I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage. _

_ -Wilbur. _

*********

Wilbur stares over at his wall; he reaches out and carefully turns on his phone. The light blinds him for a second before he can make out the time; 2:53am.

He sighs, rolling into his back and throwing an arm over his face. His thoughts won’t stop running a mile a minute, and they all loop back to one person.

Wilbur rolls over again, snatching up his phone and unlocking it. If he can’t sleep, he might as well keep himself entertained. He barely opens discord before a message comes through.

**Schlatt**

_ Shouldn’t you be asleep? _

**Wilbur**

_ Who made you the sleep police? _

**Schlatt**

_ You should get some sleep though. _

Wilbur smiles a little at his friend’s concern, but sleep won’t be coming anytime soon for him.

**Wilbur**

_ I thought about it _

_ But sleep sounds boring  _

_ And it wasn’t really my choice to stay up all night anyway _

**Schlatt**

_ Insomnia? _

Wilbur doesn’t get a chance to answer, a call filling his screen. He lazily accepts it, blinking blearily at the screen.

“Insomnia?” Schlatt repeats, this time through the call.

“Something like that.” Wilbur shifts, propping himself up on one arm. “You?”

“It’s ten at night here, Wilbur, so it’s not unreasonable that I’m awake.”

“Why’d you call me?”

Schlatt turns on his camera purely to give an overly dramatic shrug before switching it off again. “Wanted to talk to you, I guess.”

Wilbur fights back a broad grin. “That bored, huh?”

There’s a huff from down the call. “I swear to God, Wilbur-”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” Wilbur backtracks quickly. “Please don’t leave the call.”

“Calm down, loverboy,” Schlatt says with a soft laugh. “I like your company.”

Wilbur breathes out slowly. “I like talking to you, too. It’s just better when I’m not sleep-deprived at three in the fucking morning.”

“I’d tell you just to go to sleep, but, well.” Schlatt chuckles a little. “You can’t.”

Wilbur decides to change the subject. “So what are you doing this fine hour, my pretty princess?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Schlatt replies, just a little too quickly. “But to answer your question; talking to you.”

“Yeah but… Before that.”

Schlatt sighs heavily. “Debating getting drunk.”

“It’s Thursday. Wait, actually Friday.”

“Yeah.” Schlatt sounds resigned.

“Bad day?” Wilbur ventures.

“Bad week,” Schlatt responds. “A little better now, though.”

“What, cause I’m here?” Wilbur jokes. There’s silence for a moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, cause you’re here.”

********

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** 193

_ Do you ever feel like you’ve fallen as far as you could for someone, but then somehow you fall impossibly deeper? It’s that feeling for me, all the time, as well as a feeling of falling constantly. _

_ It’s like I stepped off a tower into an infinite abyss. Always falling, with no way back up and no signs of stopping. _

_ I’ve gotten used to it now. It’s almost comforting how familiar it is.  _

_ Are you falling too? Can we link hands across the chasm as we tumble ever downwards? _

_ Or are you watching from the top as I fall endlessly, your feet firmly on the ground? _

_ -Wilbur. _

********

“I’m going to spawn a ravager.”

Wilbur keeps cutting down an oak tree, his mind anywhere but on the video game before him. He doesn’t even register that the other man has spoken.

“I said I’m going to spawn in a ravager, are you listening?”

“Sorry, I-” Wilbur takes a moment, blinking. “I’m a little out of it today.”

From the other end of the call, Techno lets out a humourless laugh. “Yeah, I figured that when you didn’t react to me mentioning a ravager.”

“Do not,” Wilbur says, sitting forward in his chair, suddenly alert, “Spawn in a ravager.”

“Not even one?”

“No.” Wilbur looks down at his hotbar and groans. “I don’t even need wood. Techno, why did I just get a bunch of wood? I don’t need it.”

“Do you need to take a minute? You really seem out of it.”

Wilbur shakes his head a little violently to clear it. “I’m fine. Just… Got half a stack of wood now, I guess.”

“I’m gonna keep working on my farm,” Techno says slowly. “Get some villagers in, maybe.”

“Ah,” Wilbur nods, “Slavery.”

“Forced unpaid work,” Techno responds aggressively, the weirdness between them melting away. “Not slavery.”

“Oh, of course. Forced unpaid work,” Wilbur amends. He moves his character towards the makeshift mine; he remembers now that he needs iron.

As he heads down, joking with Techno, he briefly muses how nice it is to simply not think about Schlatt, for just a little while. To leave his stupid feelings in the dust and just have some fun playing a video game.

*********

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** 214

_ We haven’t spoken for a while now. I’d like to pretend I don’t know how long, but that would be a lie. I should point out it’s because of these emails that I know, and not just me being weird, but two weeks is a long time to go without any contact. _

_ Why aren’t you texting back? I’m not mad or even trying to be clingy, just… Worried.  _

_ It hurts to think something could have happened to you. But if something did, how could I not know? _

_ Maybe I need to worry less.  _

_ -Wilbur. _

********

“Hey, Phil.”

“Is something up? You don’t sound… great.” Phil’s voice is full of concern, and Wilbur really wishes he wasn’t. At least, not concerned for  _ him _ .

“I haven’t heard from… One of my friends in weeks,” Wilbur says carefully. “I’m worried about him.”

“Well,” Phil begins slowly, gently, “There’s really nothing you can do.”

Wilbur knew this would be the answer, but his heart still sinks anyway. “I… God, I know. But I can’t stop thinking about him. Wondering if he’s okay.”

Phil sighs, silence filling the call for a moment. “I’m streaming later tonight; we could do something together? Take your mind off it for a bit.”

It’s not a permanent solution. They both know it. But what more can Wilbur do?

So, he smiles, grateful for the friends he has. “Thank you. That’d be really cool.”

“Alright. I’ve got to go do some stuff, but I’ll call you back later.”

Phil leaves the call. Wilbur sits there in silence for a moment, staring at his screen. Then he gets up and leaves his room, determined to find himself a distraction until his stream with Phil tonight. Anything to keep his mind off of Schlatt; anything to stop worrying.

*********

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** 220

_ We scheduled to record a video tonight. Ages back. But we still haven’t spoken. _

_ Have you forgotten? Or if I call you, will you answer? _

_ I guess we’ll find out. _

_ -Wilbur. _

*********

Wilbur’s mouse hovers uncertainly over the call button. It’s been three weeks since he and Schlatt have spoken, even over text. But they scheduled this video far in advance, so surely Schlatt should pick up?

Wilbur exhales, and clicks. The call rings for far longer than usual, but finally Schlatt picks up.

“Wilbur?”

“Hey, Schlatt.” Wilbur fights back a relieved sigh, and zeroes in on how tired Schlatt sounds. “It’s been a while.”

“Yeah.” Schlatt yawns audibly. “We’re meant to film, yeah?”

Wilbur takes in the way exhaustion seems to tug at every word Schlatt says. “We can push it back a day, dude. You sound like you’re half dead.”

Schlatt lets out a quiet groan. “Just… It’s been a lot recently. I don’t really want to talk about it. Let’s play the stupid block game.”

Wilbur frowns, but opens Minecraft regardless. “Well, just… I’m here if you need me, okay?”

Schlatt laughs dryly. “Don’t worry about me and my feelings, loverboy.”

Wilbur takes in a breath. “What kind of feelings?”

“Stupid ones,” Schlatt replies. “The bullshit that is falling in love. Have you got the world up yet?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur manages, fighting down the millions of thoughts he has. “Yeah, it’s up.”

“Good.” Schlatt pauses for a second. “So, what’s the gimmick today?”

Everything feels a little more normal. Wilbur can’t quite relax or smile yet, but the tension eases. 

“You’ll love it,” he promises.

“That tells me I won’t,” Schlatt responds, joining the world. Wilbur takes in a breath, and starts to record.

***********

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** 234

_ No matter how hard I try, everything comes back to you. To what you said. _

_ Who did you fall in love with? Is it futile to hope it’s me? _

_ Probably. You’re you, and I’m me. Sure, you joke and “flirt”, but there’s no meaning behind it. _

_ It’s stupid of me to think otherwise. But I’m determined to be there for you, in any way that I can. _

_ -Wilbur _

*********

Wilbur rubs his eyes tiredly, leaning back in his chair. He’s been trying to edit for hours now, but can’t focus on much beyond the way Schlatt laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his lips curving up.

He sighs heavily. Wilbur knows he’s in far too deep now. He’s fallen so far, so beyond just a crush. 

He saves his progress, and closes his editing software. Wilbur then throws an arm over his face, and tries to expel some feeling from his body. Begs for a moment of relief, a moment where he’s not so highly aware that his life has come to revolve around Schlatt.

He’s plagued by thoughts and emotions all the time. There’s not a moment he doesn’t feel like he’s falling further; the stupid smile and awful jokes that made him fall in the first place sound in the back of his mind even when his entire focus is on a stream.

Wilbur breathes out, and pulls up his email. He rests his hands on his keyboard, and decides that this is the final time.

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** 246

_ This is the last I’ll ever write. It’s not healthy- no, that’s a shitty excuse. I’ve just decided it’s enough. _

_ I’m sick of this. Of having my life gravitate around someone I can never have. So I’m getting over you, starting now. _

_ The first step is these emails. I’m deleting all of them. I was never going to send them anyway. _

_ Hell, why am I even bothering with this one? Closure, maybe? I don’t know. _

_ I might step back from social media for a bit. I have enough videos built up to allow me a short break before I have to actually announce anything to my viewers. _

_ Maybe I’ll just go dark. Won’t tell you or anyone I’m gone. _

_ … Probably not. I don’t want anyone to worry. _

_ But this is it. I’m moving on. And the first step is to select every last email, and hit that delete button. _

_ -Wilbur _

He straightens, and stares at what he’s written for just a moment. Then, slowly, he highlights all of his drafts. All two hundred and forty six of them.

He hovers his mouse over the delete button. Closes his eyes. Clicks.

There’s a whoosh sound. His eyes fly open to see a confirmation message.

_ Emails sent! _

Wilbur stares, and stares, then feels tears prick at his eyes. He sinks down in his chair.

“Fuck.”


	2. Schlatt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schlatt makes a rash decision. We get a glimpse at more of the emails Wilbur wrote.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Back with another chapter; sorry this took a bit to get out, my life's been a little busy recently! Also, I have a twitter now! Come over n chat :) https://twitter.com/WritesFinn

Schlatt isn’t one for words. Emotions and feelings bled out onto paper and ink is more than difficult for him, and sometimes he hates that he can’t put anything he feels into the right words.

So, he acts. He puts the feelings and emotions he can’t quite name into gestures so grand they’re almost astronomical. And right now is no exception.

He stares at the emails in his inbox. Nearly two hundred and fifty of them, but he’s only had to read a few to know they’re all meticulously crafted, each word carefully thought out. Schlatt can’t exactly do the same, but he’s got an idea regardless.

Granted, it’s a stupid one, but he’s not about to try and think this through. Not when his heart is racing and his hands are shaking and there’s far more emails in his inbox than he’s ever had at one point in his life.

Schlatt opens up a new tab. Buys a plane ticket. Sets about packing before he can register what he’s just done.

He sits down heavily on his sofa, suitcase by the door, and checks how far away his Uber is. Twenty minutes. His finger hovers over his email; after a moment of hesitation, Schlatt taps it, then selects a random email.

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** 67

_ I keep coming back to your videos. Letting myself get a little lost in your eyes.  _

_ You have one of the most stunning smiles I’ve ever seen. It sets a fire in my chest, a gentle, warm blaze.  _

_ I can’t tear myself away if I try. You’re an enigma, did you know that? Just the right level of mystery to you that draws me in again and again. _

_ It’s the same thing that brings me back to these emails. Over and over and over. There’s no possible way out for me, no escape. _

_ Just feelings and emotions that drag me back to you. Every single time.  _

_ -Wilbur. _

Schlatt’s eyes flick back and forth over the words. The simple lines, yet somehow complex, full of emotion. A short email Wilbur had clearly never meant to send; words he’d never meant for Schlatt to see.

But now here it was, sitting in his inbox, among so many others. Schlatt simultaneously wants to read all of them and throw his phone out the window. There’s so many, an overwhelming amount, and it feels almost wrong to even look at the subject lines.

He sighs. Wilbur hadn’t meant for him to see them, but now he has. There’s no way backwards and out of this, and the rash decision Schlatt made only half an hour ago solidifies that.

He glances at the time, and, as if on cue, he gets a notification telling him his Uber has arrived. Was he really sitting there for twenty minutes, staring at one email?

Schlatt pushes himself to his feet. Grips the handle of his suitcase far tighter than he should. Slides his phone into his pocket.

He just prays Wilbur won’t hate him for what he’s about to do.

********

The airplane is loud. There’s two kids who keep sprinting down the aisle and yelling, and a baby a few rows in front of him that keeps crying. Yet it feels like an all-too oppressive silence when, about an hour into the flight, he finally braves opening his email inbox again.

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** 123

_ Sometimes I wonder how you’ve managed it; to capture my heart so truly and completely. I don’t think I’ll ever understand, really. _

_ I’m powerless to try and escape. Everything I do just makes it worse. There’s an ache in my chest now when you’re not on call with me, or not responding to my texts. _

_ It feels a little obsessive. But then again, what about love isn’t obsessive?  _

_ I don’t know if I can take much more of this, yet if these feelings fade, I don’t know how I’d make it. My life has begun to revolve around you, and I can’t even try to stop it. _

_ -Wilbur _

Schlatt exhales a shaky breath. His chest feels tight for all the right reasons, and he can’t register proper thoughts. Wilbur’s in love with him.

The realisation hits him like a truck, barrelling into him hard enough to knock the breath right out of him. Schlatt’s had more than platonic feelings for Wilbur for a bit of time now; not enough to really call it more than an infatuation, a stupid high-school crush at the end of the day. But now?

He’s got confirmation Wilbur feels the same. In fact, Wilbur is i _ n love _ with him. It scares Schlatt just as much as it excites him.

He opens another email with shaking fingers. One of the two kids sprints down the aisle again, screaming gleefully, and Schlatt flinches back a little, curling in on himself as he starts to read.

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** 15

_ Do I dare call this much more than a crush? Mere infatuation, enamoured with the idea of something? _

_ I’m not sure. Either way, I want something more than what we have right now. Something beyond friendship. _

_ But do you want that too? If I ask, would you accept? _

_ I’m at a crossroads. In the end, my choice doesn’t matter; yours does. What you would say in response will either let me keep on walking, or send me tumbling off a cliff into the depths of the sea. _

_ So it’s safer if I simply stand still. For now, anyway. _

_ -Wilbur _

Schlatt turns off his phone. It’s too much for him to try and process. Wilbur’s clearly spent so much of his time thinking about this; about them, about every possible outcome. It’s painfully clear to Schlatt that he himself has not.

He sinks lower into his seat. The flight is long, and his phone weighs heavy in his hand. Suddenly he wonders if he should have thought this through more.

Schlatt closes his eyes and pretends he doesn’t hear the baby start wailing as the kids run past yet again. Maybe once he wakes up he can try reading some more again.

*********

There’s an hour left of his flight. Every bone in Schlatt’s body feels like it’s been bent out of shape and crushed. No amount of stretching seems to fix it.

His phone sits face down on the fold-out tray table before him. Nothing in him wants to make any move to grab it, but he does anyway. The screen glares at him tauntingly, and it’s almost too bright when he turns it on. There’s a single new email in his inbox.

It’s panic more than anything else that fuels his scramble to open it; once he does, he stares at it. Two simple lines, enough to shatter him into a million pieces and scatter him across the universe, left broken beyond repair.

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** Sorry

_ I didn’t mean for those to send at all. Can we forget this happened? _

_ -Wilbur _

Schlatt feels like he might throw himself out the plane window. He can only wonder if Wilbur’s okay, if he’s in a panic, if he’s done anything half as stupid and rash as Schlatt has. It hurts him to think of Wilbur being worked into a panic over him, over these emails, and part of him is tempted to reply to the email, but he doesn’t.

This is something he wants to explain in person. Judging by the time, that won’t be too long away.

*******

Schlatt has decided he hates travelling, and airports, and Ubers, and literally everything that comes with it. His suitcase is heavy enough that he’s sure he’s wrenched his shoulder out of place dragging it behind him, and his muscles feel like they’ll never not be sore ever again. 

But, he’s made it. He stands outside Wilbur’s house, the Uber he’d caught over pulling away. The reality of the moment hits him hard enough that he almost wants to call the whole thing off. To step back and away, call another Uber and ship himself back home.

He takes in a rattling breath and shakes out his hands, trying to fight off the nerves. He stares at the door in front of him and takes hold of his suitcase handle again. Curls his fingers into a fist.

Then, with a final breath in, Schlatt leans forward and knocks.


	3. Wilbur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wilbur regrets the emails he sent, and deals with Schlatt's arrival.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i listened to dragula on repeat while writing most of this chapter,,, with the exception of the first like four paragraphs, those were written while listening to big and chunky

Wilbur has decided he’s going to move to Russia. Or China. Maybe Australia. Cut his hair, change his name, delete his socials. He’s going to make himself disappear off the face of the earth.

Anything to pretend he didn’t just do that. Didn’t hit send instead of delete, hasn’t been sitting here staring at his monitor for a solid two hours in shock. That he didn’t snap out of it only to see Schlatt isn’t online anywhere, to find that when he asked anyone else if they’d heard from him, he was met with nothing but  _ He’s not replying. _

Wilbur had expected something. To be yelled at via text, to be blocked,  _ anything _ . The radio silence he was getting now was far worse.

His fingers hovered over his keyboard, the open dms between him and Schlatt. Their last messages, from a mere few days ago, are so normal. There’s a clear divide between then, before he spilled his feelings through too many emails he never intended to send, and now, after everything piled up in Schlatt’s inbox. 

He hovers for a moment more before groaning and pushing his chair backwards, away from his desk. He doesn’t know what he’d say, if he even had the courage to try and type. Tears threaten to pool in his eyes again, and he angrily wipes them away. There’s no point in crying, even if he  _ did  _ fuck everything up.

If Schlatt never talks to him again, then that’s his fault, and his alone. He doesn’t deserve to cry over something he caused. Least of all this.

Pulling himself back to his desk, he opens his messages with Phil. He glances at the time, thanking the gods that it’s only eleven. Then, slowly, he begins to type.

**Wilbur**

_ I fucked up. Bad. I don’t know who else to go to. You always have the answer to fix everything tech-related, and I don’t know if you’ll have the answer for this, but… Even if you don’t, I can’t just not tell anyone. _

He pauses. Reads over what he’s written, then deletes it before ever pressing send. He can’t bear to burden another person with his bullshit today. Especially not Phil.

Wilbur reopens his messages to Schlatt. He might not know what he’s going to say, but he’s not going to back away from this. Not unless he wants to drag a third person into this bullshit and have to explain everything to them.

**Wilbur**

_ I really don’t know how to say this. At all. Sorry if this sounds far more stupid than anything in your inbox.  _

He pauses. Takes in a breath. Settles his hands back onto his keyboard, and presses on.

_ I’m sorry. You probably know this, but I never meant to send anything. I was going to delete everything. So much for moving on, huh? _

Wilbur sighs, pressing his face into his hand for a second. He’s going to finish this message, and send it through, even if it kills him.

_ I hope you don’t hate me, but I can;t blame you if you do. All I can do is apologise again.  _

Wilbur exhales. He presses send, then opens his emails. Just to be sure, he’ll send something here, too.

**To:** [ jschlatt@gmail.com ](mailto:jschlatt@gmail.com)

**Subject:** Sorry

_ I didn’t mean for those to send at all. Can we forget this happened? _

_ -Wilbur _

For the second time, he presses send, and then he shuts down his computer. Maybe if he goes to sleep, by the morning, this will all seem like a bad dream.

*********

Wilbur is barely awake when he hears knocking at his door. With a heavy groan, he sits up, kicking off his blankets. He really doesn’t want to deal with the world today, but it seems he has no choice. His phone informs him that it’s one in the afternoon, and he’s not too surprised that he slept this long.

He gets to his feet, stretching. His muscles pop, and his neck aches a little from the awkward position he’d slept in. Wilbur takes his sweet time walking down the hall from his room to the front door. Whoever’s on the other side knocks again, with more force, like they’ve grown impatient.

“I’m fucking coming,” Wilbur mumbles, nowhere near loud enough for them to hear, before reaching out to grasp the door handle. He opens the door, and freezes at the sight of the person standing before him.

It’s Schlatt, looking even more exhausted than Wilbur feels. He offers Wilbur a small smile, and it’s enough to snap him out of his deer-in-headlights moment.

“Schlatt?”

“Sorry,” Schlatt says. “But you seemed like you might need a hug.”

Wilbur normally would have laughed at that, but too much has happened for him to. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Schlatt says, voice dripping with sarcasm for a moment. “There were these really loud kids on the plane. Couldn’t fuckin sleep properly.”

Wilbur steps back, mentally shaking himself back into reality. “Uh, come in.”

“Nice place,” Schlatt muses as he steps inside. 

“Why’d you come here?” Wilbur says bluntly, deciding not to tiptoe around it. If he pretends everything is normal, it’ll just hurt more the second one of them brings up the reality of the situation.

“Like I said, you seem like you could use a hug.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Why’d you actually come?”

Schlatt’s easy smile fades. “Because there’s some things you can’t talk out over text or video call.”

Wilbur exhales, and tries not to shake. “Ah.”

Schlatt sets down his suitcase slowly, then cautiously moves closer to Wilbur, like he’s approaching a wild animal. Wilbur doesn’t move, just lets himself get pulled into a gentle hug as his entire body shakes. He blinks back the tears threatening to pool in his eyes, wishing he wasn’t on the verge of crying for the third time in twenty four hours.

“I fucked up,” he mumbles, pressing his face into Schlatt’s shoulder.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Wilbur sniffs. “I didn’t mean to send them.”

Schlatt’s hold on him tightens slightly. “Wil. It’s okay.”

Wilbur pulls back a bit. “Everything’s changed now.”

“I’ll be here as long as you need.”

Wilbur’s eyes widen a little. “But… Your streams. And videos.”

“Fuck em. You’re more important than them right now.”

Wilbur lifts a hand to wipe away the tears forming in his eyes, hating how vulnerable he felt. Still, it was nice to know Schlatt had come all this way for  _ him _ . That what he’d said in those emails hadn’t eternally destroyed the friendship they had.

“Fuck you for being this nice for once,” Wilbur says with a barely-there smile. Schlatt grins.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.”

Wilbur bites back a smile, knowing he’d look like nothing but a lovestruck idiot. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, loverboy.” Schlatt’s gaze wanders around the room. “You got a place for me to sleep?”

Wilbur laughs wetly, and nods. “I’ve got a guest room.”

“Good.” Schlatt yawns. “I could sleep for a year.”

Wilbur leads him down the hall, his mind running a mile a minute. His thoughts are cluttered, overanalytical, but his chest is full of warmth. Even if his feelings are mixed, he knows one thing; he’s glad Schlatt’s here. Even given the circumstances.


	4. Schlatt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We come to an end

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter turned out shorter than I thought it would; I was thinking of trying to extend it out more, but I didn't want to throw in too much filler and take away from what I wanted in this chapter and from what I wanted to end on. So, a short chapter for the final one, but I hope it's satisfying none the less!
> 
> On another note, it's sad to see this fic end. It got much more attention than I thought it would, and was a delight to write. No doubt I'll be writing more multi-chaptered stuff in the future!

Schlatt knows he’s slept for far too long for it to be healthy when he wakes up and it’s noon. He feels rested, thankfully, and stumbles out of Wilbur’s guest room with only mild difficulty. It’s almost easy to lose himself in the fact that he’s  _ here _ , in Wilbur’s house, and to simply forget about the  _ why _ . Almost. 

He turns on his phone and it pops open to his email inbox, right where he’d left it the day before. The flood of emails almost lures him in, threatens to grip onto him and drag him under the waves of a turbulent sea. Instead, he forces himself to close the app. 

“Hey.”

Schlatt looks up and meets Wilbur’s gaze across the hall. There’s a tension between them that he hadn’t noticed the night prior, but is now far too prominent to ignore. 

“Hi.”

There’s a moment of silence that stretches for far too long. In the end, it’s Schlatt who speaks again and breaks it.

“Can we sit down?”

Wilbur looks tense with nerves, but he nods anyway. “Yeah.”

The two of them make their way down the hall and while Schlatt collapses rather unceremoniously onto the couch, Wilbur sits down more cautiously, perched practically on the edge like he’s ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. This, Schlatt realises, might be a little more difficult than he thought.

“I’m not good with words,” Schlatt starts carefully, meeting Wilbur’s gaze. “Shit at expressing anything. But you’re not. I read some of those emails; they’re incredible.”

Wilbur looks torn between pure terror and pride at his words. His voice is barely audible when he speaks. “You read them?”

“Some of them.” Schlatt inhales heavily. “I’m not good with words. I act instead. The more I feel, the bigger the stupid stunt I’ll pull.”

Wilbur stares at him for a moment as some semblance of realisation dawns on him. “And now you’re here.”

“Yeah.” Schlatt exhales.

Wilbur breaks eye contact to stare down at his own feet. “Good or bad?”

Schlatt thinks of the way his heart had threatened to burst right out of his chest the moment he’d realised what the emails entailed. “Good.”

Wilbur visibly relaxes a little at this, and lifts his head almost hesitantly to look at Schlatt again. “Good how?”

“Good like I can’t even try to describe it.” Schlatt reaches out and takes Wilbur’s hand gently. “Good like you make me smile even when I don’t want to, and good like I’d give up anything just to be allowed to know you.”

Wilbur looks like he might cry. “And you said you weren’t good with words.”

Schlatt lets himself get dragged into a tight hug. “Good doesn’t even sound like a word anymore.”

Wilbur laughs into his shoulder. “Good. Good, good, good, good, good.”

“Stop it,” Schlatt says, drawing back so Wilbur can see the stupid grin on his face. For a moment, the two just smile at each other with a mix of amusement and fond affection; then Wilbur’s reached out to gently cup Schlatt’s face in his hands.

Schlatt doesn’t wait to let himself get drawn in this time. He leans forward and presses their lips together in a kiss that they’ve both waited entirely too long for. There’s nothing too noteworthy about it; no fireworks or sparks like books describe, but there’s an underlying warmth to it, gentle affection and love. 

It’s the mere fact that he’s kissing  _ Wilbur  _ that makes it so perfect. Everything about is soft, gentle and lazy. There’ll be time for anything different in the future. They break apart, and affection oozes from Wilbur’s expression.

“Fix your face, it’s leaking love everywhere,” Schlatt says. Wilbur’s eyes flash with mischief.

“Fix yours first.”

Schlatt grins easily. “Make me, loverboy.”

Wilbur just laughs, dropping his head onto Schlatt’s shoulder and intertwining their fingers. Schlatt feels so full of love that he might just burst.

“I’m glad you sent those emails,” Schlatt says quietly. “Even by accident.”

Wilbur turns his head to the side and breathes out slowly, his breath fanning lightly against Schlatt’s neck. “You know something? Me too.”

They stay like that for a long while; just the two of them, curled up on Wilbur’s couch, over two hundred emails sitting in Schlatt’s inbox. Finally, both of them can let out the breath they were holding and relax, bask in the excitement and happiness, and not worry too much about what’s to come.


End file.
